


drowning in a river of denial

by ghastlyghosties



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghastlyghosties/pseuds/ghastlyghosties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All things considered, Newt has a lot going for him -- he's in the science club, for one, and he's going to be a senior, and he has a group of people he wouldn't not call his friends, so it's all panning out pretty alright. But then a very serious, very boring, very British asshole moves to town and ruins everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drowning in a river of denial

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the horribly wonderful lakehymn and infinituity for being the most patient and beautiful betas a girl could ever want.

Newt has never been especially “popular.” Not really with any group of people, except maybe a select group of two who submitted their genetic material to create him, and even that can be iffy on a bad day. Nevertheless, he’s somehow managed to carve out a nice little group within the Science Club of Pacific High. Over the last nearly-three years, he’s carefully and deliberately become a permanent fixture of the Science Club, taking Biology, then AP Biology, Human Anatomy and Physiology, then AP Human Anatomy and Physiology; he even took a Biochemistry course at the community college over the summer and managed to sneak his way into a few of the Bioengineering lectures, too.

He’s nothing if not earned his rightful place as president of the club. Then some know-it-all Brit moves to the coastal Washington town, a so-called genius in physics, and Newt’s plan to become president and make some real fun finally happen for the Science Club all but comes crashing down.

The Brit – _Hermann Gottlieb_ – isn’t even any fun to be around. He’s all “numbers are the language of God!” and “there are no guesses,” and “that’s far too dangerous, Geiszler.”

It’s fucking sickening and Newt can’t even begin to deal with how awful and how giant of a buzzkill this dweeb is, but both the principal and the club advisor think his level headedness is a good influence or some such bullshit. And because of his dumb accent he’s got some of the club members convinced he’s cool and European, and since when did scientists care about cool and European anyway, they’re supposed to care about science. (And that may have been a little too close to something Gottlieb would say for comfort, but Newt stands by the assertion anyway.) Newt can feel his tentative group of acquaintances/maybe friends slipping away with every dumb word out of Gottlieb’s dumb, play-it-safe mouth.

***

Hermann has never been popular either, instead being bullied mercilessly by students at his old school in England for both his arthritic hip and his love of the logic that presides over science and math. When he moves to Rimond, Washington in the States after his father gets a job working for some nuclear program, he’s honestly shocked at his reception. The Science Club welcomes him and his logic with open arms – all except a boy who wears the most godawful graphic t-shirts with hand-drawn pictures of various movie monsters on his arms, his eyes large behind thick-framed glasses, though the left eye is grayed out. Newton Geiszler.

Geiszler seems fine at first, kind and welcoming, but the second Hermann mentions that his proposed project may be too dangerous and unpredictable for the classroom, Geiszler begins to change. It’s as if the idiot can’t take any criticism whatsoever. The rest of the club likes Hermann well enough and is very welcoming to him. The advisor even suggests he run for club president and although Hermann has only been at Pacific High for a little over six months, he can’t help but preen at the thought of leading the club. 

***

It’s a Tuesday when Newt finds out Hermann is running against him. Related, it’s the same day Tendo Choi considers how poorly he’s chosen his friends.

“Why would anyone tell Gottlieb to run for president. Isn’t it obvious he’s going to ruin the club! He’s so…mathematical and _precise_.”

Tendo raises a half-burnt eyebrow, the result of Newt’s last experiment-gone-wrong. Not that Newt’s experiments often go wrong – just, not perfect. They still achieve the goal, but sometimes there are casualties. Half of Tendo’s left eyebrow happened to be the casualty for the last one.  
Newt narrows his eyes. This means war.

***

It’s hard to avoid Newt, not that Hermann is avoiding him per se, but he is trying not to see him. Not because he can’t handle a 5’6” kid who spends his time planning intelligent but dangerous experiments and drawing all over himself, but because Newt, Hermann has found, is an unpredictable whirlwind who focuses his energy like a laser, and that laser is pointing at Hermann. The point is that they have several classes together, including an AP Physics class where they’ve been paired for labs since Hermann is new and Newt is off-putting to the general student body. And, again, it isn’t that Hermann can’t handle someone a good five inches smaller than him, but there’s something angry in Newt’s eyes that Hermann is too exhausted to deal with. 

Newt, unfortunately for Hermann, couldn’t care less how exhausted the dumb prick is.

“Are you _trying_ to ruin my life, or is it just a happy coincidence of your existence.”

“I assure you, Geiszler, I have no intention of ruining your life. You seem quite capable of taking care of that on your own.”

“Then what are you doing in- _infringing_ and running for the Science Club president?”

“I merely want to become more involved in activities that interest me.” Newt isn’t fooled for a second by the smooth accent, seeing past it to the snarl on Gottlieb’s lips.

“Well, you’re going to lose.”

The bell rings and Newt walks away, though it doesn’t do much good as he and Hermann share their next class as well.

***

They aren’t technically allowed to campaign, especially considering there’s all of five days to the “election,” but it doesn’t stop them from not-so-subtly as they think commenting to the other science club members.

“You know he hates fun, right? With him as president, we wouldn’t get so much as a baking soda volcano.”

“He likes old science-fiction far too much; it seeps into his work.”

“He’s literally the worst.”

“He’s unprofessional.”

Mr. Hansen had been intent on ignoring the shitstorm of immaturity that was his two best students, but the other members of the Science Club are starting to get disgruntled and he senses a mutiny that would leave both Hermann and Newt angry and possibly run out of the club.

Principal Pentecost really doesn’t like to be bothered by things like this if he can help it – prefers to keep his mind on more important things like budgeting and raging over the recent funding cuts, Herc knows this, but his 10 years of teaching experience have somehow left him at a loss for how to deal with these two, if only because he hasn’t had two students with such a vitriolic hatred for each other who have to be in contact so constantly.

“Kick them out,” Pentecost says, as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world and he really can’t believe he’s being bothered with this.

To him, Herc thinks, it probably is.

It isn’t that Stacker Pentecost is cruel, or even that he hates the science department. If anything, Pentecost is the science department’s biggest fan – he recognizes the need for it and is only just shy of enraged by the budget cuts because they mean he can’t give any program the funding it deserves. It’s only that Pentecost knows that Herc can handle this on his own, and that saying what he knows Herc won’t do will accomplish two things: it will get Herc out of his office, and it will help him find a solution.

Or at least, that’s the hope.

In the end, Herc makes the possibly unwise decision to do nothing, for now. The elections are only a day away, and he knows the club members, ruffled as they are, will manage to make a decision.

***

Newt spends the entirety of first, third, fourth, and fifth period glaring at Hermann. Hermann spends those class periods pointedly ignoring him, bristling so obviously Newt feels a sense of pride well up in his chest.

The elections are after school and very unceremonious -- eight students picking their choices and throwing them in a ballot box, to be gone through after the meetings and the results to be announced at a second meeting later in the week. Most of the offices were unopposed, with the exception of president and secretary, and despite many appeals made by Herc, no one even ran for Vice President.

After all the ballots have been counted, Herc sits, unsure if he wants to laugh or cry. He settles on a strangled sort of laugh that sounds maybe like it was once a sob. On the paper he’d used to tally votes, clear as day:  
“Newt – ||||  
Hermann – ||||”  
Herc knows what he has to do, but isn’t very excited about it.

The Science Club is practically blue in the face waiting for the winner of the elections and Herc can’t help but think how great it is that anyone even cares, even if it is just because they’re worried about how exactly they’ll die in the fallout from the inevitable loss. Herc goes through the list,

“Tendo is the historian, Mako is our secretary, and, finally, your presidents are both Newt and Hermann. I hope you’re happy.” Herc sort of wishes he had a camera for the looks of rage and confusion on Newt and Hermann’s faces. They start talking at exactly the same time.

“Herc, there’s gotta be a recount—”

“Surely there’s some procedure for a tie—”

“I can’t work with him he’s—”

“Absolutely reckless—”

“We’ll never get to do anything cool, and—”

“I’m fairly certain he’ll kill us all.”

Herc rubs his temple, wondering again why he thought teaching high school would be a fun job. The other students in the club are looking at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world and he’s betrayed them. They’re probably correct on both counts, he thinks.

“Shut _up_. There is a procedure for a tie, but I’m ignoring it. Besides, it would probably result in a tie again, anyway, considering how set in your ways you all are. And you two,” Herc rounds on Newt and Hermann, who cower appropriately, “need to learn to work together. I think this will be a learning experience for us all.” And if not, Herc thinks, at least we all go down together.

***

The next three months are the longest of Tendo Choi’s life. Being friends with two overly intelligent assholes who hate each other is one of the most taxing jobs on the planet, he thinks, and he’s not nearly caffeinated enough to deal with Hermann’s current rampage, particularly at 7 in the morning on a Saturday in the summer, and especially not when Newt had him up until 3 with his own six-mile long list of complaints. They weren’t even working together yet and Tendo already wanted to kill them both. Hermann is going on and on about how insufferable and idiotic and rash Newt is, and when he finally says goodbye in a tone that means he’ll be calling back in about five hours, Tendo is already done for the day.

He’s on his sixth cup of coffee when Newt calls again at 8:30, and Tendo wonders how he survives on so little sleep, since he can’t imagine Newt drinking coffee (if only for his own sanity, since a caffeinated Newt could very easily become too much to handle).

“No.”

“Wha-Tendo, man, you don’t even know what I was going to sa—”

“ ‘Oh, Tendo, Hermann’s the worst, I can’t stand him, I can’t believe Herc was such an asshole about the tie, Oh my god I wanted to have _fun_ my senior year and now I have to deal with Gottlieb’s bullshit safety rules.’ That sound close enough, asshole.”

A pause, and then,

“Well it’s all true.”

“If you and Hermann keep pulling this bullshit, I’m never talking to either of you again and then you’ll have no choice but to communicate with each other.”

Tendo can hear Newt sulking, but he doesn’t care. This is the fourth day in a row those assholes have done this to him and it’s not like he needed any help facilitating his coffee habit anyway, but now he’s fairly certain he’ll have an ulcer by twenty-five, an unfortunate combination of the stress of dealing with Newt and Hermann and the twelve cups of coffee he drinks per day.

“I can’t believe you’re friends with that tool.” Newt says, before abruptly hanging up.

Tendo sighs, grateful for the break and settles down to at least attempt some progress on his summer homework. He thinks vaguely about how much worse and more frequent the calls and texts will be during the school year and gets the sudden urge to take a preemptive bath with too much lavender.

***

Newt friends Hermann on Facebook only after two weeks of fuming at the profile. He doesn’t even want to, but Tendo had mentioned how useful it would be to be able to communicate with Hermann whenever he needs to, and there is no way Newt’s getting that asshole’s phone number. Hermann, for his part, accepts the friend request after a week and a half. Newt wants to ignore Hermann completely, even nearly going so far as to block Hermann’s posts, but then Hermann posts something about aliens and how they might look and Newt can’t just sit by and let anyone sully the good name of alien life forms everywhere. 

“Fucking internet scientists thinking they can just _make up_ rules and apply them to alien life forms -- there’s no way we could even begin to imagine their genetic make-up.” Newt continues to mutter angrily as he pounds out a response to the article, which, although interesting to the casual observer of biology, is so incredibly _wrong_ Newt pauses several times during the following week just to make angry noises about how wrong it was.

Newt Geiszler:  
OK, I can see how a someone like you would be easily fooled by this intelligent sounding, and frankly somewhat interesting article, but the sheer idea that anyone could imagine what alien life forms would look like when we can’t even say for certain what their atmosphere or living conditions would be like -- for all we know there could be organisms that would only be able to survive on a planet like the one we’re turning ours into with all our pollution and overuse of resources. It’s just arrogant to assume we could know the genetic make-up of creatures we can’t even imagine.  
Hermann Gottleib:  
What do you mean someone like me? In any case, the article is entirely theoretical -- no one is claiming to know the exact make-up of any organism, they’re theorizing how they might look with the information we have on planets and how life exists. Why wouldn’t aliens look like us? Isn’t it likely there are earth-like planets with humanoid organisms? I am not sure why you’re so offended by theory.  
Newt Geiszler:  
Because it’s theory! And not in the scientific way, in the generally accepted misleading way! It’s all guesswork, based on facts that we know, but we don’t know to be universal. What’s the point of submitting guesswork on something we don’t even have the capacity to prove? All it is is journalists attempting to get more readers with an interesting-sounding article that really doesn’t say anything other than, “this is what we think alien life forms may look like with the miniscule amount of hard facts we currently have.” And, fyi, by “someone like you” I meant someone who is more invested in the theoretical than the solid facts.

The argument that results continues for weeks until Tendo sends them both a message informing them that they’re breaking whatever lame social rules apply to Facebook. It continues after that, but they at least have the good grace to move to the messages. 

Much to Tendo’s dismay, neither bothers to create a new message and it takes him a good three days of 60 messages before he realizes he can exit the conversation.

***

Three weeks before school starts, Herc e-mails all the Science Club officers about a pre-school meeting. The meeting is eventful, to put it mildly.

“We need to discuss what kind of activi—” Herc begins.

“We should dissect something. Or go to the cadaver lab!” Newt interrupts. Hermann looks at him with a look of pure disgust. Tendo sighs.

“Newt, haven’t you already _been_ to the cadaver lab?” 

Newt sputters, “well, _yeah_ but that was with a class; it was boring and I couldn’t concentrate. Besides, who _knows_ what I missed last time, not to mention other members of the club maybe haven’t been yet.” Hermann grunts disapprovingly. Newt glares at him, already tired of the noises he makes.

“What about something a little…cleaner. Like a workshop, or a class.” Hermann suggests. Newt exclaims indignantly.

“You can’t learn _anything_ from a class – we need to experience biology, really dig our hands into it, a workshop or class can _tell_ , but actually seeing a body, that’ll _show_.”

Hermann may not like Newt, but there’s a spark that ignites when he talks about biology that he suddenly feels respect for. He still doesn’t agree with Newt on a basic level, and he certainly doesn’t think a cadaver lab is a good idea, but even he must admit to passion when he sees it.

Herc notices Hermann gearing up for another retort and cuts in.

“Boys, we can do both. Hermann, you research workshops and classes, Newt, you get on cadaver lab tours. Any other ideas?” The other officers chime in some experiment ideas and field trips, Mako taking them down and it isn’t long before the meeting is adjourned and everyone is on their way.

***

Newt frequently thanks god for the invention of e-mail, if only because working his way through the complicated system of secretaries and planning material by phone would make the entire process of booking a tour of the cadaver lab much more inconvenient, to say nothing of the sheer amount of smooth jazz or grainy top 40 he’d have to sit through. But with e-mail, he’s able to send two e-mails, explaining what he wants to set up and what days the club is available. He doesn’t check with Hermann, partially because he can’t stand the thought of acknowledging that a class would be any kind of helpful and partially because he hopes they schedule the same day and then Hermann will see how much cooler and more desirable the lab is. He doesn’t necessarily expect it to happen, though, which is why he’s so surprised come Tuesday when Hermann reveals the tentative date for the class.

“Hold on, Hermann, you’re gonna have to move some stuff around because that’s when the Cadaver Lab field trip is gonna be,” Newt interrupts. Hermann bristles and Newt feels strangely satisfied by it, smirking a little bit. Or, no, smiling.

“Why should I have to reorder my plans around you—”

“Uh, maybe because my plans are way coole—”

“Boys.”

“What definition of cool are you us—”

“The same one _everyone_ uses, Hermann, corpses are way better than sitting in a stuffy—”

“ _Boys_.”

“We have a lot to learn from those who have succeeded before us, Newton, maybe if you actually listened once in a whil—”

“Oh, shut up, we can learn way more from getting our hands dirty than taking notes—”

“Boys!” Newt and Hermann abruptly stop arguing and turn to face Herc. He’s rubbing his temples and looking like he’s severely regretting most of his life choices.

“This time, we’ll just have to find a second chaperone and have both on the same day, but if you two don’t start working together I’m booting you from the club. Get it together.”

This sparks a whole other argument, but rather than stick around and listen to it, Herc allows the other members of the club to leave and somehow manages to herd Newt and Hermann out the door so he can go home.

Tendo is left with Newt and Hermann, walking with them as they argue all the way to Tendo’s car.

“Hey, I can’t give either of you a ride.” They snap out of their argument, neither having realized that they were following Tendo.

Newt sighs, “dude, I have my own car,” before turning to Hermann.

“You want a ride, man?” Hermann looks like he’s going to refuse for a minute, but he’s missed his bus, and lives too far to walk. He nods stiffly. Tendo narrows his eyes in confusion and suspicion, but gets in his car all the same, watching as they argue over something else entirely all the way to Newt’s car. He shakes his head and turns the ignition. 

“Nah, dude, football is, like, totally manly.”

“Well, _I_ think it’s completely barbaric. A bunch of dull strongmen tackling each other over a ball. No wonder the rest of the world thinks this country is full of idiots.”

“Hey, it’s an American pastime -- and there’s more to it than you think. There’s a lot of strategy involved.”

“How much strategy could _possibly_ be involved in morons fighting over a ball.”

“Trust me, it’s a lot. You wouldn’t get it.”

“ _Excuse_ me? I highly doubt there is anything to get.”

“Whatever, dude. It’s, like, not in your genes. You’re too dorky and British or whatever.”

Hermann sniffs indignantly, and there’s a second, less than, half a second, maybe, before Hermann gets out where he looks at Newt in the way he does, like he’s the worst, and Newt’s stomach goes a little crazy and then Hermann’s out the door without even a thank you, his bag hitched up on both shoulders, his back hunched a little.

“What the fuck was _that_ about.” Newt stares out his windshield, eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out where his stomach gets off birthing butterflies around a tool as big as Hermann.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he says, not for the last time, as he pulls out of Hermann’s driveway and drives home.

(Hermann maybe spends the entire evening researching American Football in an attempt to learn the rules and regulations of it, and although it ends up taking much, much longer than anticipated he eventually understands the gist of the game.)

***

Newt would probably spend more of the next three days freaking out about his stomach’s new tendency to pitch into his throat when Hermann looks at him like he’s a goddamned idiot if he weren’t so busy proving exactly why he isn’t an idiot and fighting over what deserves to be presented at full meetings during the officer meeting. With all that going on plus trying to find a part-time job he doesn’t really have the time for a crisis of revolting body parts and emotions, so it’s Saturday before he really has any time to think about it, and he decides to get coffee in order to more effectively mope over his emotions betraying him. 

After an obnoxiously long moping session, Newt somehow manages to make it to the first football game of the year. The game is long and exciting and it floods into overtime -- Breach High has an exceptionally good team this year; they’re starting to adapt to some of the new plays Pacific has instituted over the last few years, but nonetheless Pacific manages to eek out a win in the end. Newt dips out a little early in hopes of missing the crowd, and makes his way out the gate, smiling as he hears the roar of the other students flooding the field in celebration of their third consecutive win against their crosstown rivals. 

As he passes a small alley in the stadium, he hears an unfamiliar stutter in a very familiar voice. He pokes his head around the corner to see Hermann, leaning on his cane, and two guys – about the same height as Hermann, but about 200 pounds bigger – in deep blue hoodies proudly showing nicknames with numbers beneath them. Newt rolls his eyes at “Leatherback” and “Otachi” and doesn’t stop to listen to what they’re saying before rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and more or less barreling in.

“Hey! What’s going on, Hermann?” Newt crosses his arms and spreads his legs in a way he hopes makes him look more powerful and less sort of small and pudgy. He shoves his chin up for good measure. The two guys turn around, showing the “Breach High Kaiju” printed on the front of their hoodies in white. Hermann audibly groans. Newt just winks at him. He can’t think of a worse spot he’s been in than facing down two giant dudes from their rival school (and really, what is this? An ‘80s coming-of-age movie?), but they looked about two minutes from thoughtlessly beating Hermann into the ground and Newt’s just not down with that. He’ll analyze that a little later, but right now, the two giant dudes are closing in on him.

“Who’re you?” One of them asks, sizing Newt up with his little eyes, chuckling to himself.

“D-does it matter? Why’re you beating up on someone like Hermann? I know he’s an asshole –”

“Thank you, Newton, very helpful.” Hermann interrupts, and Newt can hear him rolling his eyes.

“Shut _up_ , Hermann. Anyway, I know he’s an asshole, but, really? What is it? You need to beat up on dudes half your size to feel manl-manly? Y-uh-You’re really, that, um, that emasculated by intelligence.” Newt can feel himself regretting this decision more and more every second, but he can’t imagine backing out now.

The other giant narrows his eyes and flexes his fists.

“Alright, we’re done talking here.” It takes Newt a second to comprehend, and in that second one of the guys’ fists hits his nose. He feels something crack and hopes it’s his glasses, but the blood that starts dripping from his nose says otherwise. He regains his footing enough to get down and curl up. They kick him a couple times but lose interest quickly once it’s clear he’s just going to sit there.

“Ohhhh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” Newt can hear his voice getting higher, but he doesn’t really care. His glasses are broken, and so, he thinks, is his nose. His bad eye is swelled up, and –

“Fuck! Dude, that hurts!” Hermann is pulling up his shirt and investigating the bruising on his torso.

“Well, if you weren’t such an _idiot_ running in without _thinking_ like you always do, maybe you could have avoided this.”

“Oh, yeah, and just let those guy kick the shit out of you? I don’t think so, Hermann, only I—well, you may be a prick, but you don’t deserve this. Just, ah, just take me to the fucking hospital.”

The hospital calls his parents, but Hermann stays anyway. In the waiting room, but he’s still there when Newt comes out, nose patched up and glasses taped, wincing every time he breathes because of his bruised ribs. Hermann looks a little embarrassed, but Newt just smiles.

“Have you decided to thank your knight in shining armor?” Hermann’s face immediately changes and he launches into a tirade about how he _is not_ a _damsel in distress_. Newt’s parents look a little confused, but drive Hermann home anyway and don’t ask Newt about it.

To be honest, Newt isn’t sure what he’d say if asked anyway.

***

Newt does his best to be casual about his still purple and yellow eye and the bandage on his nose come Monday morning, but it still causes a bit of a stir. Since he figures Hermann isn’t too hot on being a victim, he just says he hit his face on a step while slipping up some stairs and leaves it at that. He isn’t exactly the most graceful guy, so most everyone who asks buys it, but Tendo looks at him odd, like maybe he expects something, or more likely like he doesn’t believe a word out of Newt’s mouth, but he doesn’t say anything.

The rest of Newt’s day is reasonably normal, once the novelty of his injury has worn off, though Mako Mori, a freshman and secretary of the science club, looks at him all worried throughout the day between bouts of being disgustingly adorable with her boyfriend. When he sees Mako at the meeting that day, he makes sure to tell her he’s fine, and though she still looks a little worried, it’s lessened. They mostly discuss the upcoming field trips, and Herc makes sure everyone knows that all permission slips _must_ be in his hands by _this Thursday_. Newt might roll his eyes at the emphasis, but writes it on his hand anyway. Newt’s on his way out the door when Hermann calls him back.

“Wait! I, erm, I just wanted to thank you.” Newt tries to look confused, but it still hurts a little, so he settles for sticking his chin out in what he hopes is an interested manner. From Hermann’s face, it isn’t, so he stops.

“Uh, for what?”

“For being discreet about your injury. It was—kind. Of you.” Newt chuckles at the slightly pained look on Hermann’s face, as if thanking Newt is the most difficult part of his day. Which it might be.

“Oh, that. No problem, man. Anything for a—” he nearly says ‘friend’ but something stops him and instead he clears his throat. “Uh, no problem.” Newt looks up at Hermann, and their eyes catch. Newt’s frozen and heavy, like a statue, and not unlike a starfish in the way his stomach is making its way up his throat. Hermann pauses and leans on his cane, like his body is harder to hold up than normal. Though they don’t know it, they simultaneously think, “oh, fuck.” Newt toys with the sleeve of his flannel nervously, rolling it up. Hermann follows the movement and notices a splash of color where there wasn’t any before. He narrows his eyes.

“What is that?”

“What? My tattoo?”

“You’re actually getting a tattoo? _There_?”

“What of it, Hermann?”

“It will be impossible to get a job with those tattoos!”

“So _what_.”

“Not to mention, they’re repulsive!”

“They aren’t repulsive, Hermann, they’re art! Which you wouldn’t know if it marched up to you and stole your cane!” Hermann sniffs in disgust.

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Newt snaps.

The moment – whatever moment it was – has passed and, still arguing, they make their way to Newt’s car. Hermann notices that Newt has somehow memorized where he lives, though he can’t remember to bring a lunch to school, and isn’t sure what it means or how to feel about it. Newt pulls into Hermann’s driveway, and moves like maybe he’s going to hug Hermann, but stops himself short and claps his hand on Hermann’s shoulder instead. His hand maybe lingers just a bit long and Hermann maybe leans into it, but they both try not to think about it too much.

Hermann walks to his house, smiling every step of the way. Newt sits and watches him until he’s in his house, and it isn’t until he’s on his way home he realizes he’s still smiling like an idiot. He falls onto his bed and wants to scream into a pillow, but since his nose still has a lot of healing to do he settles for a weak groan and, 

“I am so _fucked_.”

(Similarly, Hermann sits on his bed and stares at the wall when he Realizes and says something to the effect of, “well… _shit_.”)

They spend all of their physics lab the rest of the week fighting more than normal over stupider things than normal and generally loving every horrible second of it, even when the teacher sends them to the principal’s office for disrupting the class. Pentecost watches them fight for all of 15 seconds before telling them both to grow up or at the very least avoid fighting during class periods and sends them on their way. He vaguely wonders if maybe he should’ve been harsher, but quickly moves on to more important and interesting matters, like what he’s going to do about recent cuts to their entire budget, but especially the science budget.

***

Newt finds the easiest solution to avoid actively fighting with Hermann is to make faces at him behind his back whenever he’s talking. This proves effective until Hermann spins around and smacks Newt in the side with his cane. 

“God, can you just, like, not hide behind your fucking leg for a second and actually talk to me like a human being?”

He actually feels a pang of regret when Hermann’s face shuts down for a second before he turns and walks out of the classroom. They both spend the weekend in a haze of regret, anger, and hurt feelings and they ignore each other most of the following week.

***

The field trips are that Thursday, and they climb into separate cars without so much as looking at each other. Tendo watches as Hermann gets in the car to the autopsy.

“Hey, brother, you know this is going to to cadaver lab, right?” He asks.

“Yes, well, although I _know_ the autopsy will be utterly disgusting, it is...prudent to at least consider other facets of science beyond one’s preferred sphere,” Hermann replies. 

“Oh. Alright.”

***

“Ah, Newt?” Newt twists in his seat to face the voice. It’s Mako, looking at him curiously as the car pulls out.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You know that this car is going to the lecture?”

“Yeah, yeah. I thought, y’know, even though lectures are boring, they can’t be completely worthless, right? I might as well make sure you guys are learning something.” Mako looks at him strangely before nodding and falling silent.

Newt spends the ride to the college with a weight in his stomach; Hermann spends the ride to the lab feeling like he should feel worse. 

This lecture, Newt thinks, is exactly as boring as he’d expected. It’s not that the lecturer is an _idiot_ he’s just underestimating the class. And, yeah, is a little bit of an idiot, because Newt is no physics student, but even he knows there’s something off with those calculations, but every time he tries to say something about it, the chaperone tells him to quiet down. Newt settles for taking a picture of the calculations and sending it to Hermann in a Facebook message.

“These look fucked up to you, too?”

Hermann is suffering though an autopsy when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He’s holding one hand over his mouth but the other manages to fish the phone out and check the message, although he hesitates for a good five seconds when he sees it’s from Newt. Ultimately, he thinks his feelings are, all things considered, far less hurt than they should be and he checks the message. The calculations are all kinds of, to quote Newt, “fucked up.” Hermann says as much and even adds some corrections. He wasn’t horribly interested in watching guts and bone be dissected in front of him anyway.

Newt makes a triumphant noise when the message comes in. The chaperone glares at him, and though he tries to look the part of Innocent and Interested Student, he’s not entirely sure he gets away with it, but she doesn’t take his phone so he sends a quick message back to Hermann before interrupting the lecturer again.

_Bing!_

“Thanks, this guy’s a moron.” Hermann can’t suppress his smile. Tendo sees him out of the corner of his eye, considers saying something, or asking who he’s messaging, but he figures it’s the cute girl in their math class who keeps making eyes at Hermann and leaves it at that.

The lecturer peers at Hermann’s corrections and makes a surprised face, and then a sour face, but accepts them anyway. The chaperone, in embarrassment, takes Newt’s phone and sentences him to sit in the front row.

“If you’re going to come,” she says, “you might as well get something out of it!” Newt grumbles about how he can’t get anything if the person teaching them can’t get basic equations right, but there’s really nothing he can do but accept his punishment and finish the day.

For Hermann, although his academic curiosity pushed him to choose the cadaver lab, watching the dissection is enough punishment to last a century.

***

The field trips are soon over and the cars make their way back to the school. They arrive at almost exactly the same time, Newt’s car just barely later. But by the time he leaves the car, he can already see Hermann climbing into what he assumes is his parents’ car without looking back. Newt spends the entire drive back to his house trying to figure out if that means Hermann hates him or not.

***

All too quickly it’s Monday once again, and Newt nearly forgets the Science Club meeting in a flurry of midterms; he all but skids into the classroom five minutes late.

“Sorry, sorry, I had a lot on my plate today. Forgot about the meeting.” Hermann makes a sour face.

“And yet the rest of us managed to get here on time. How miraculous.” Newt pulls a face at him. Herc, sensing an argument about to begin, launches a little desperately into an announcement that anyone in one of his classes can turn in a 2 page report on either field trip for 2-5 points extra credit. Herc also mentions potentially getting other teachers to accept the reports as well.

Hermann and Newt both make small announcements, some more activities are planned, and the meeting is over.

Newt looks to Hermann and waits, forgetting that they are, technically, still fighting until Hermann gives him a strange look. He shrugs and says,

“I’m sorry.” He’s slightly offended at how surprised Hermann looks. Hermann quickly regains his composure, though, and sniffs.

“I wasn’t aware you owed me anything of the sort.” Newt rolls his eyes. They continue talking even as Herc herds them out the door.

“Don’t even pretend like that didn’t affect you, Hermann. Just accept the apology and make this easier for both of us.” Hermann is resolute in his denial.

“What didn’t affect me?” He asks, bristling a little more with each word. Newt makes a frustrated sound. He checks the hallway, but it’s clear. He makes another sound, this one less frustrated and more decisive. Hermann is in the process of decoding the sounds when he’s yanked forward and down, and Newt, of all things, kisses him.

Newt’s mind is a chorus of every curse word in the book mixed with “hallelujah” at the fact that Hermann, although he hasn’t yet kissed back, also hasn’t violently pushed Newt away. Then, Newt is surprised to find, Hermann actually does _kiss him back_. There isn’t actually a word strong enough to describe how happy Newt is when he realizes. But then Hermann pulls away and Newt chases him a little. Hermann actually chuckles. Newt maybe beams a little at the thought that he caused it. Hermann straightens as much as he can, causing Newt to, embarrassingly enough, go up on the balls of his feet just a little.

Hermann smirks and _shit_ Newt hates that asshole more than anyone else so he kisses him again.

It’s less of a fight than Newt would have expected. They’re comfortable and they fit and while Newt isn’t 100% sure what to do with his mouth and tongue for once, he gets the feeling Hermann doesn’t either. The break apart, both of them grinning. Newt laughs, a little breathless, a little disbelieving and says,

“We can’t tell anyone.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“They wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I don’t believe they would.”

“Not that they’re homophobic, but.”

“Well, it would just be embarrassing – after all I can do far better.”

“Excuse you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

This time, it’s Hermann who kisses Newt, if only to get rid of the shit-eating grin on his face.


End file.
